“To come in, of course.”
“What sort of man are you?”
“I’m a miner.”
“Well,” said St. Peter, “we’ve never had anyone of that kind here before, so I suppose you might as well come in.”
But the miner once within the gates fell to tearing up the golden streets of heaven, digging ditches and tunnels all over the place and making a frightful mess of it all. At last a second miner presented himself at the gates.
“Not on your life,” said St. Peter. “We have one miner here and we only wish we knew some way to get rid of him. He’s tearing up the whole place.”
“Only let me in,” said the second miner, “and I’ll promise to get rid of that fellow for you.” So St. Peter admitted him.
This second miner easily found the other who was hard at work amid a shower of flying earth. Going up to him he cried in an undertone: “Partner! They’ve struck gold in Hell!”
The miner dropped his work and sprang toward the gates. “Peter, Peter, open, open! Let me out of Heaven, I’m off to Hell!”
